


Hiraeth

by IneffableChaos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Angst, First Time, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Inter-House Friendships, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:46:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23854813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableChaos/pseuds/IneffableChaos
Summary: Harry reluctantly returns to Hogwarts after being in hiding from his loved ones for months after the war. After struggling with his identity and the past, he longs for something to anchor him back in the present.However, some cannot let the past lie, and will do whatever it takes to get revenge.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of J.K.Rowling.

Silence invaded every space in the vast house, its cold fingers digging deep into each crevice of the building. Every now and then, it was broken by the quiet sound of a page turning or a sniff from the lone inhabitant. 

Harry’s fingers trembled slightly as he turned another page...empty. And then another. He closed his eyes, resting his head back on the chair. Disappointment weighed heavily in his gut. His godfather’s diary was a myriad of ramblings, of strings of unconnected thoughts. When he had found it whilst clearing Sirius’ room, he had expected heroic and hilarious stories of his teenage years with the marauders. However, it was relatively new, just badly handled. A stream of consciousness after Sirius’ stint in Azkaban. 

He swallowed, the sound too loud against the silence. The last time he had seen Sirius had been in the Forbidden Forest - alongside his parents. Harry’s fingers twitched as he remembered the Resurrection Stone in his hands, its sharp point digging into his palm...the almost transparent forms of those deceased he held dear. But that number was much higher now. His schoolmates, friends, teachers… But Voldemort was gone. It was almost too much for Harry to believe. Sleep evaded him most nights, waking in a sweat thinking he was back at the stark white King’s Cross or in the forest face-to-face with the Dark Lord himself. 

Emerald eyes flicked to the still-closed letter on the table in front of him. He tugged the blanket over his lap, knuckles whitening as he gripped its thick folds. 

The ink shimmered, called to him almost. It was just his address on the front. And that still needed getting used to. No Privet Drive. Grimmauld Place. This place was not home though. Everything had belonged to the Black family. He had no possessions, nothing worth to fill a grand house anyway. 

“Master?” 

Harry gave a wan smile to the ancient house elf. “Kreacher, back already?” 

Kreacher entered the smallest living room of the manor, holding a range of letters in his bony hand. “Yes, the Headmistress did not need much help.” There was a pause. “These arrived for you Master Harry.” 

His eyes averted to the dead fire. When had it gone out? What was the time? There was no clock in the room whatsoever. 

“Master needs a good meal.” The letters were placed on the table, next to the crisp white one with shimmering writing in a familiar scrawl. 

“No, that is-” Harry cut himself off as he realised the house elf was already gone. His heart thumped painfully against his ribcage as he looked upon the stack of letters. Kreacher shielded him from the fan mail, the ‘thank you’ gifts, the calls for interviews… No, these were more personal ones. Hermione, Ron, Ginny… He had not seen his friends in weeks, or was it months? And Ginny, was safely happy with Neville now. Harry remembered Ron telling him in passing once. 

The only public appearances he had made was to attend the trials of Malfoy and his mother, giving evidence to aid their cases. After all, Narcissa Malfoy had lied to Voldemort for him. It was the least he could do. And Malfoy...well, they were all just kids. 

He could not look Malfoy in the eyes or even in his direction during his evidence-giving. In fact, he did not remember much of the trials at all. Harry had submitted lots of evidence and his memories of Severus Snape, awarding a posthumous pardon for the sharp-tongued Potion Master. 

Suddenly, the fire fired to life as a shamrock green. “Harry!”

He jumped, dislodging the diary from his lap as it cluttered to the floor. “H-Hermione...hi.”

Her head appeared in the dancing flames - curls framing her face. “I’m sorry Harry...I tried to give you some space but…” Her teeth bit into her lower lip. “We’re worried about you,” she continued in a whisper. 

There was silence once more. Harry tried to get words out, but none came. 

“Can I come over?” 

He took a shaky breath in. “I’m tired Hermione...I…” Harry tugged a hand through his hair. “Yes.” 

There was a rush of green and his friend emerged. She looked the same. Those unruly curls poured over her shoulder, warm brown eyes gleaming with concern… “Oh Harry.” She rushed over, going to her knees besides the chair he sat on. “How long have you sat here? You did not answer our letters and Mrs Weasley is so worried about you. We are all worried about you Harry.” She took his cool hand in hers. “Look, why don’t you come to the Burrow. It will be good for you to get out and see people. Everyone wants to see you.”

He withdrew his hand, wincing at the hurt expression that crossed her face. “I don’t want to see anyone Hermione.”

“Why don’t I come here? Keep you company.” 

“I don’t know what I want.” His voice cracked at the end, his eyes burning. 

“Oh Harry.” She cupped his cheek in her warm hand. “That is perfectly okay to feel that way. Look, we have gone through a lot...more than anyone will ever know. We want to help you. I want to help you. Will you let me?” 

He could only nod. Only nod and clasp the hand that slid into his. 

***  
  


Hours later, found both friends sitting in the cosy living room. This time, the fire was lit and throwing warmth around, lighting each corner. Mugs of hot chocolate were cradled in their hands, miscellaneous food items Kreacher had prepared spread out on the table. 

Hermione had filled the initial silence with her stories of travelling to Australia with Ron, and the Ministry’s help in restoring their memories. Kingsley had lent the expertise of a couple of his mind healers, despite the need for them after the fallout of the war. Harry listened to the sights she explained, wizarding and muggle, in the far-away country and the time she spent just basking in the sun. 

“I heard you were at Malfoy’s trial.” 

Harry took a sip of the hot chocolate. “I don’t want to talk about that ‘Mione. Not yet.” 

Her smile was strained. “Okay Harry.” She took some berries from the plate, eyes flicking to the mail. “Are you not going to open them? I think I see Ginny’s handwriting.” 

“How is she getting on with Neville?” His lips quirked up at his friend’s face. “Don’t give me that sympathetic look ‘Mione. I’m glad. I’m glad she is with someone who can give her the time and care. I just - can’t.” 

“Well, she is well. Neville is taking up a position apprenticing a pretty prominent Herbologist. She has some fascinating studies on…” She trailed off with a blush. “Yes, er, Ginny is good, returning to Hogwarts. In fact, Ron and I are going too. I really want to complete my exams and spend some time thinking about what I really want to do. Ron wants to go into Quidditch or Aurors...but he wants to go back too.” 

His hands were gripping the mug in his lap tightly, looking down at the letter once more. The Hogwarts crest was emblazoned on the top right hand side. 

“Headmistress McGonagall told us that the castle is almost ready,” Hermione continued. “Harry, have you thought about what you want to do?” 

What did he want to do? He didn’t even know who he was anymore, now that the horcrux inside him was gone. Months on the run from the Snatchers had not left any thought for what he would do after. He did not even think he would make it past the fight with Voldemort. Well, he almost didn’t. 

“Harry?” 

His tongue swiped over his lower lip. “When does term start?” 

“Two weeks.” She lent across and took the Hogwarts letter. “How long has this been unopened?” 

He shrugged, taking another sip of the hot chocolate. “I need to think about it.” 

“But will you?” She released a sigh. “I’m sorry Harry - but how long have you been thinking about it? I’m so worried about you.” 

“I’ll come.” Harry stood up, clutching the knitted blanket to his chest as he put down the mug next to the pile of letters. “I’ll come, Hermione.” He was relieved his voice sounded more level than the tremble of his limbs. “I’m tired, and it’s late.” 

There was a rustle before a warm hand took his upper arm. “Harry.”

“I know ‘Mione, I know.” He took in a deep breath and stepped away from her. “Goodnight.” He left the room, his feet leading him to the bedroom he once shared with Ron when the Order were here. When Grimmauld Place was alive with sounds of Mrs Weasley in the kitchen and Sirius’ laughter. 

Harry climbed into bed, burrowing himself under the covers as he begged for sleep to take him away.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *********************************************************
> 
> Another chapter - but don't get too used to the quick updates! 
> 
> If there are any suggestions, just let me know - thanks for reading!
> 
> *********************************************************

“You missed the feast, Mr Potter.” 

He gave her a small nod, trying not to let his eyes wander around the office. However, some things were hard not to notice, like the empty stand Fawkes once stood and the plethora of books crammed into the tight shelves. But some things had changed. There was a crystal paperweight with a silver cat perched on the top on the desk between him and the Headmistress, as well as an assortment of tartan pillows on the chairs (one which he was sat on) and a Montrose Magpie flag suspended on a wall. Small differences, but differences nonetheless. 

“I thought it would be best,” he said finally. 

McGonagall’s lips thinned as she stared at him. “Your acceptance letter arrived this morning.” He was silent so she continued, “Nevertheless, we welcome you back to Hogwarts, Mr Potter. I hoped you would return.” 

Harry swallowed, pulling on the sleeves of his sweater. The last time he had seen her had been right after the Battle of Hogwarts, when she had gathered him in an embrace, smelling of smoke and sweat. 

“The rest of the eighth years have gone to their common room - I believe you will find some familiar faces.” Her hands clasped together on the desk between them. “Though the castle has been mostly restored, some modifications have been made to ensure that those whose education was affected can resume their studies. You will attend classes on your timetable, which will overlap with the seventh years for some subjects. One of your study sessions per fortnight will be with a Ministry Official who will look at your career options, and Madam Pomfrey will be conducting a physical and mental examination on each student over the coming weeks.” 

Harry blinked as a piece of parchment floated down from the air, into his lap. An elegant scrawl marked the paper with the dates and times of his classes. “Thank you, Headmistress.” The word felt odd in his mouth and before he knew, his eyes flicked up to the portraits who were all quietly watching. Twinkling blue eyes captured his, a smile twisting the lips of the old Headmaster. And next to his was a portrait that was empty - the cursive ‘Headmaster Severus Snape’ written on a silver plaque. 

“Over dinner, I discussed with the student body my expectations for this year and the years going forward. There have been a lot of tensions, with the trials - including some of our students. The Dark Lord left holes in each and every family. I want this to be a fresh start. For everyone.” 

He drew in a deep breath. “Who came back?” 

“A handful of eight years and it is late to go through the list with you now Mr Potter.” She took her tea with her wrinkled hands and had a long sip. “Your friends will be expecting to see you, as they cornered me before the feast, where I confirmed your acceptance. Things are going to be different, but the staff are trying to make things as normal as possible.”

“But things will be different,” Harry said softly. 

The glimmer in her eyes dimmed a little. “Yes Harry, things will be different.” Her lips pursed once more as the silence fell between them. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

A hollow laugh burst from his mouth. “I am not sure what I want, Professor. Professor Dumbledore prepared me for my future fight with Voldemort, one I did not expect to win. I almost didn’t.” He stood, clutching the parchment in his hand. “Where is the eighth year’s common room?” 

“The Third Floor - Sir Cadogan has been moved to the entrance and the password is ‘ _Vincit qui se vincit_ ’. However, I believe you have two visitors outside who will show you the way.” She gave him a smile, though he could see the worry in her expression. 

Harry bid his goodbye, leaving the Office. As the moving staircase transported him down, he pocketed the timetable and wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. It was the flaming red hair that he saw first, springing away from Hermione. 

Ron coughed, pale cheeks flaming with embarrassment as he wiped his mouth. Hermione bit her bottom lip, eyes wide. 

“Harry!” She bounded over, wrapping her arms around his waist. She smelt of mint and vanilla, her hair tickling his nose. 

He forced a smile onto his mouth as she withdrew. 

“Hey, how come you didn’t greet _me_ like that on the train?” Ron said, but there was no malice in his expression. “Good to see you, mate.” He draped an arm over his girlfriend’s shoulders as she came back to his side.

Ron looked different. His jaw was broader, hair pushed back away from his face that was clean. There were no smudges of dirt or shadows under his blue eyes. There was even a faint redness to his exposed forearms - probably from the trip to Australia. 

“Good to see you too, Ron.” 

His friend grinned. “Wait ‘til you see our new dorm and common room. It’s not Gryffindor but it’s bloody cool.” 

The trio started to walk down the corridor. 

“Ron has spent the last two hours retelling everyone our first year experience on the third floor, especially his victory over Professor McGonagall’s chessboard.” Hermione rolled her eyes. 

Harry’s eyes had drifted to the windows, where the sun was sinking down into the Forbidden Forest. The sky was streaked with amber and a dusting of pink clouds. It looked too beautiful, too normal. He did not let his eyes linger too much on the forest, drinking in the familiar surroundings. It almost seemed like nothing had happened, that Death Eaters had never seized hold of the building the students within. The stone floor underfoot gave the same echoing sound as their shoes slapped on its surface. The tapestries and portraits were in good spirits. The smell was even the same. 

“...can’t believe I still have to take Potions,” Ron groaned. 

“Well, if you want a place amongst the Aurors-”

“‘Mione, they have pretty much offered me a place already.” 

Hermione released an exasperated sound. “Then don’t moan. This is your choice to be here.” 

“Only because I don’t want to leave you.”

“I’m a big girl, Ron.” 

Harry felt his lips twitch up in a smile. Some things did not change. 

After a few minutes of listening to his friends bicker and descending staircases, they emerged onto the third floor corridor. Fluffy’s old home. The trapdoor was hidden by a statue of a dragon carved in crystal. It caught the light, scattering colour around the once-dismal hallway. 

“The common room is here?” Harry said, gazing up at the swedish short-snout. 

“Yeah, and you just wait.” Ron grinned as he strode past the statue. 

“Comrades, you return!” a jolly and very familiar voice exclaimed. 

Harry followed Ron, with Hermione leading behind. Emerald eyes widened at the portrait hanging on the wall.

“Harry Potter! The brave knight returns! Celebrations and jubilations!” the jovial knight said, his armour clinking with his excitement. “Back for another quest I bet!”

“We thought they’d fired him from any portrait duty,” said Ron. 

“Sir Cadogan was chosen to guard the hero, Harry Potter!” He twiddled his curled moustache as he leaned in Harry’s direction. “Only the best for the best.” The knight gave an animated wink. 

Harry groaned. 

“ _Vincit qui se vincit_ ,” Hermione said, repeating herself when the knight completely ignored her, to give Harry another - bigger - wink, just in case the raven-haired boy had missed his first one. 

“Very well, fair maiden,” Cadogan simpered. “Harry Potter, you must come and exchange tales of bravery with me! We knights must stick together!” With those words, he swung open. 

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered as he led the way inside. 

Harry clasped his hands together, feeling Hermione’s hand brush his upper arm as she followed after him. They descended a small, circular staircase and emerged into a sprawling room. There were a range of sofas, all various colours in various areas of the circular room. A firepit stood in the centre - a large silver bowl carved with runes. There were windows looking out to the lake. 

There were small groups of people from his year, from all Hogwarts Houses. Some were looking over their timetables, a few playing Wizard Chess and Gobstones on fancy tables and all of them looked up as the trio entered. 

“Harry!” Seamus cried out, jumping up from his game of wizard’s chess. 

Harry froze as everyone else started to stand...and clap. He started to back away, but Hermione was at his back, putting a hand to his arm once more. A prickle of sweat broke over his forehead. 

“Alright, alright, give the man a break,” Ron laughed, waving his hands in the air. “So, this is our common room.” He turned to Harry with a big smile. “We are allowed out to Hogsmeade after dinner - just not allowed to come back ‘lumbering like inebriated mountain trolls’.” 

“Ron!”

He gave an apologetic look at his girlfriend. “McGonagall’s words - not mine!” Ron then went on about the changes but Harry wasn’t listening. 

Instead, the boy-who-lived-twice’s eyes flickered to each face that stared at him. Dean was sat with Seamus, arguing over a foul move. Fay Dunbar was the only other female Gryffindor, idly polishing some gobstones. There were a good few Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws around as well. 

“Where are the Slytherin’s?” The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them. 

Silence invaded the room. 

Hermione shook her head as she came to stand at Harry’s side. “Really you lot,” she chided the students, channelling her old Head Girl status. “They are in their rooms. Professor McGonagall was very insistent that we put old rivalries to bed. They had their punishments, their trials.”

Harry nodded. How did he feel about that? He remembered his knee bouncing as he waited to speak at Malfoy and his mother’s trials. Who else came back? Crabbe was dead. Goyle? Pansy Parkinson? He rubbed his temple. What did it matter? It was none of his business. 

“So, where do I sleep?” 

“Yeah, um, mate I do need to talk to you about that.” Ron gestured for him to follow him to an quieter part of the common room. “Look, there is a rooming system the Professors put together.”

“Who are you with?” Harry turned his back on the rest of the room.

“Terry Boot. He’s alright.”

Harry stared at Ron expectantly. “So, who am I with?” 

“Me, Potter,” drawled a familiar voice behind him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please enjoy! None of the characters are mine (apart from our slithery friend!) 
> 
> Any requests from the fic, let me know!

“Me, Potter,” drawled a familiar voice behind him. 

Harry’s eyes widened, connecting with Ron’s, who gave him an apologetic look and mumbled something incoherently. 

“It should go without saying, but don’t touch anything of mine.” 

There was a rustle of robes that made Harry finally turn. Malfoy was sweeping through the common room, clearly having entered after them. All he could see was a broad back and silver hair before the other boy disappeared through a doorway. Malfoy had grown. Harry rapidly blinked. _Where did that thought come from_?

“Sorry mate.” Ron frowned, clasping a hand on his friend’s shoulder. 

Harry spotted Hermione speaking to a small group by the fire. Her head tipped back, laughter spilling from her lips. She looked vibrant - alive. Lisa Turpin, Megan Jones and Ernie Macmillan laughed with her. When was the last time he laughed? Was it inside the tent, whilst dancing with Hermione?

“Where is my room?” he asked, voice hollow. 

“Just follow Malfoy, and your room has a bird on it, some kind of hummingbird I think ‘Mione said,” Ron replied. “Fancy a game?” He gestured to a free chessboard. 

Harry shook his head. “I had a long journey and need to sleep.” 

Suddenly, there was a loud noise from the corridor Malfoy had gone. “Potter!”

Harry and Ron ran, opening the door to see some students outside their own doors wondering what all the commotion was about. Malfoy was opposite a door that had been flung open. His white shirt was half unbuttoned, revealing a pale but toned chest. Silver eyes flashed in his direction. 

“Is this a joke, Potter?” 

Frowning, Harry walked forward and past Malfoy, who glowered at him. Some things never changed. The room was beautiful: silver drapes hung from both four-poster beds that stood opposite sides of the large room; two desks that were carved from the same ash wood stood either side of a bookcase; a small fireplace was lit, a large curved sofa in front of it; and there were no portraits but circular windows looking out to the grounds. 

“What?” 

“Your trunk. The snake?” came the biting reply.

Harry walked further in and approached his trunk, beside the bed he presumed was his. Malfoy was right. A snake was curled up on the top of his beaten trunk, its small body was black with darker zigzag patterns on its back. An adder? It was clearly young. Could he even still speak parseltongue? The horcrux was gone. 

Its head rose, black tongue darting out as its red eyes opened. “ _Loud...noissssy,"_ the snake grumbled. 

Swallowing the sudden lump in his throat, Harry bent down to his knees beside his trunk. “Sorry for the noise, they did not expect to see you here.” 

The tongue flickered out once more, eyes focused on the raven-haired human. “ _A sssspeaker?_ ”

“What are you doing here?” 

The snake started to uncoil, its scales shimmering under the floating candles that drifted high in the air of the room. “ _Warm...was losssst_.”

Harry nodded, though not sure the snake would understand such a human movement. “Would you like me to take you somewhere else?”

“ _Sssafe here. Lotsss of tasssty mice._ ” It paused. “ _Never come acrosss a human ssspeaker before. Can be lonely."_

The nights at Grimmauld Place came straight to mind. Mindless nights spent staring at the ceiling and days curled up on the sofa sorting through things he had found during his walkabouts. 

“ _Ssstay here with you_.” It curled up once more, nestling its head in its folds. The conversation was clearly over. 

Harry shook his head. McGonagall was going to have a heart attack. He had only been back at Hogwarts for an hour and already a snake had attached itself to him. Standing up, he turned around to see a crowd of eight year faces frozen - staring at him. He knew that look. It was the same look that Justin gave him in second year. He knew that because Justin was one of those faces at the door now. Fear. They feared him. 

They had fought an army of Death Eaters and Dark Creatures on these very grounds. Despite knowledge of Harry’s ability, parseltongue was still seen as dark. A gift Voldemort used to strike fear in people’s hearts whilst commanding Nagini. 

“Goodnight.” Malfoy’s voice broke the silence. He pushed his way forward, slamming the door behind him. 

Harry’s ‘thank you’ died in his throat at the strange look that was on Malfoy’s face. It wasn’t fear. It was different to everyone else’s. Those pointy features had softened, giving a masculine edge to the other boy’s face. Tendrils of blonde hair fell into his eyes. 

“What are you going to do with it?” Malfoy asked, keeping his distance. 

The boy-who-lived shrugged, licking his lower lip. “He seems quite comfortable. It’s an adder so it will probably not bite.” 

“Well, just make sure it doesn’t.” The Slytherin swept through the room, going into a door that Harry guessed was the bathroom. 

Harry sighed, not for the first time doubting his decision to return. Could he really go back to lessons like nothing had happened? And of all the people, to be put into a room with _Malfoy_ of all people. He tugged a hair through his already-ruffled hair and looked at his trunk. 

For the first time in a while, he felt lethargy creep up on him, sinking into his very bones. Maybe it was the familiar smell of Hogwarts or the emotional rollercoaster of the day. 

Harry glanced to the closed bathroom, hearing the sound of running water. He took out his wand and shrugged out of his jacket, t-shirt and jeans. All of the clothes were too big for him still, but he had not had any energy to shop for something so mundane after the war. He levitated the snake over to the bottom of the bed, and then pulled the curtains closed. Shrouded in darkness, he laid down and sleep came easily for the first time in a while. 

  
  


***

“Double! Double!” Crumbs spilled out of Ron’s mouth. “I swear they are trying to put us off and get us to quit!”

Hermione sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears as she ignored her boyfriend and scoured her open textbook. “Ron, again, you do not have to be here. Some of us want our NEWTs.” 

Harry was half-listening to Ron moaning about their class of History of Magic, a double lesson with Binns. The rest of his attention was commanded by the group of eighth year Slytherins sat together at the opposite end of the table. It was a table that stood at the back of the Great Hall, stretching lengthways across all of the Houses. In fact, a surprise had been that his robes had no Gryffindor sigil on anymore when he took them out of his trunk. Hermione had explained on their way down to breakfast that McGonagall wanted a year of focus rather than rivalry. Instead, there was silver and purple lining in the robes and the badge had all four Houses represented through their animals. 

Everyone was avoiding the Slytherins. 

“Why are they sitting alone?” the words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. 

“Because they are Slytherins,” Ron replied, stuffing a muffin in his mouth. “No one likes them.” 

“Ron!” Hermione sent him a dark look. “They are here because of the trials,” she replied, lowering her voice. “Either they or their families went under trial, and this is either a condition from the Wizengamot of release or they hold the future of their families in their hands. A lot of them are disgraced, falling into poverty.” 

“Good,” Ron mumbled, ignoring his girlfriend’s second dark look. 

“Pansy is my roommate. We had a truce last night, and she told me about her mother’s trial. It has been hard on all of them,” she continued. 

Harry nodded. He knew Malfoy’s trial had been long as he had been called upon twice in three weeks to give evidence. Not once had he looked at his classmate. He had battled with the reason for that for weeks after. It was guilt. What if his evidence was not enough and Malfoy had been sent to Azkaban? What if one of his given memories made things worse?

“How did you sleep, Harry?” 

He tore his eyes away from the silent Slytherins poking at their food. “Okay, I think.” The lie flowed too easily off his tongue. He had woken up during the night, throat hoarse and his curtains slightly ajar. The covers had been wrapped in his lower legs, sweat coating his body. Harry had grabbed his wand, closing the curtains to cast a silencing charm. He should have remembered to do it before bed, but he had gotten used to sleeping alone. When he woke, Malfoy had already gone. 

Emerald eyes connected silver over the table. Malfoy looked tired, like he hadn’t slept well either. Guilt seized his stomach, making him look away. With his throat being hoarse, no doubt he had been screaming. His dreams had been all focused around the forest, of his parents’ warped voices telling him that he should be dead and Voldemort laughing...of his limbs twitching under the cruciatus curse, brain burning. 

Something wiggled in his pocket. Harry pulled it open, an eyebrow cocking up. 

“Really?” he said to the snake. 

“ _Warm,"_ it hissed. “ _Want to stay with Massster._ ”

Master? Harry shook his head as the snake slithered up his arm, burrowing itself in the crook of his neck. “Do you have a name?” 

“ _No._ ” 

Ron was looking aghast by his side, whilst Hermione studied Harry curiously. Luckily, a lot of the seats were still empty on the eight year table, with Hermione wanting to get down to breakfast early to review her notes. 

Snakes were used in old legends to guard the underworld. “What about Styx?”

“ _Sssounds good._ ” But already, the young snake sounded sleepy. 

“If you are not bothered, I can call you Noodle.” 

“ _Whatever Massster._ ”

Harry gave a snort.

Ron cleared his throat. “That’s still creepy.” 

“I thought with the horcrux gone, it would get rid of your ability to use parseltongue,” Hermione said. 

“So did I.” Harry shrugged. “So, do we call him Noodle or Styx? He isn’t bothered.” 

“You’re barmy,” Ron replied, grimacing. “Please don’t call him Noodle.” 

The snake would be too much for people to see over breakfast, so he encouraged the sleeping reptile to go back into his pocket where he charmed it for warmth. As the younger years blearily wandered inside, they waved at Harry and nudged each other to point at him. It was Ron who waved them away if they dared approach.

As the table started to fill, things started to seem normal but Harry was struggling to join in the conversations. No one spoke about the war. No one mentioned how strange it was being back. They could not have forgotten that in this very hall, bodies had been laid out of their classmates. 

“I need to grab something before History of Magic,” Harry said, quickly getting to his feet. Prickles of sweat rose along his back and temples. 

Before his friends could say anything, he whisked out of the Great Hall. His feet carried him down corridors, lost in the maze of his thoughts. 

Suddenly, he heard a raised voice. He followed the sound, turning a corner to see Malfoy picking up a few of his books off the floor. 

Three seventh year Gryffindors had their wands raised, scowls on their faces. 

“You should be in Azkaban with your father,” one hissed - a girl with long black hair.

“Filthy Death Eater,” one of the boys hissed. 

They all looked up as Harry approached. “All okay here Malfoy?” he asked. 

“Harry!” 

He ignored the girl and picked up the remaining book. Straightening, he held the book out to Malfoy. The heir looked impeccable as always, despite the dark tinges under his eyes. 

“I don’t need you to fight my battles, Potter,” Malfoy said, voice devoid of any emotion. He strode down the corridor, leaving Harry with the Gryffindors. 

However, Harry ignored the seventh years, hurrying after Malfoy. “Malfoy!” He turned the corner.

The other boy stopped. He turned, a silver eyebrow rising. “If you want me to thank you, you will be waiting a long time, Potter. Stop following me.” 

“But we have the same class.” Harry internally winced as the pathetic words slipped out. 

“Don’t you have friends to go with?” Malfoy’s voice had changed. It was lower, softer even. A breeze came through the open window, causing loose strands of his silver hair to dust across his forehead. “It is bad enough sharing a room with you, let alone walking to class with you. Run along to your adoring fans, Potter.” With that, he started to continue down the corridor, robes swishing out behind him like Snape’s. 

“They were wrong.” Harry drew in a shaky breath as his words fell out again without thinking. 

Malfoy stopped. 

“You were a victim too.” 

A shudder ran through the taller boy’s shoulders before he disappeared down the staircase, leaving Harry alone once more with his swirling thoughts and the chasm growing wider within him. 


	4. Chapter 4

The first week passed in a blur. Harry couldn’t remember what lessons he had been in, or what he was supposed to have learnt. He felt like he was in a bubble.

That was until the second week of Potions, where it all fell apart. 

Professor Slughorn had excitedly clasped his hands together, announcing that they were going to be set a NEWT-level challenge. They all knew that this year would be different, due to some being taught some seventh year potions and their experiences in the war. He had claimed that it would take six months complete and that would be what the Ministry would judge them on. There would also be a series of potions that would be graded throughout the year so there were no stressful final exams. 

Ron had been already catching Harry’s eye from where he was sat with Hermione and winking, but then Slughorn dropped the bombshell that their partners had been decided by Slughorn based on ability. 

Harry and Malfoy. Malfoy had remained stoic at his desk next to Blaise Zabini. Harry had shifted uncomfortably, inwardly cursing the decision made to use the Half Blood Prince’s book back in his sixth year. 

They were given their criteria: a NEWT-level potion with a twist. They would get higher marks if they managed to create something new, whilst if they fail, they could still pass if they show their theory and evidence. 

Ron had been placed with Milicent Bullstrode and Hermione with Blaise. All paired with Slytherins. 

The rest of the lesson had been shorter than usual, Slughorn going through the various administrative measures. Then, they had been let go to begin their thinking and research. Harry had sat there, already insecure about his previous run-in with his new Potions partner in the corridor at the beginning of the week. Malfoy had been pretty absent from their shared dormitory - coming in late and saying nothing to him. 

A note slipped onto his desk as Harry fiddled with his quill. There was a buzz of noise as people moved into their partners. It took him a moment to register the note at all, before he raised his head but saw no sign of Malfoy. 

‘ _Library - now_.’ 

It was Malfoy’s elegant script in black ink. Harry sighed and inwardly debated going to McGonagall and just hanging up his school robes for good. What was the point in this? 

“But Sir-”

“No, dear boy. Look, your partner is waiting. Go along,” Slughorn said, basically pushing Ron to the door where Milicent was waiting. 

Hermione on the other hand was animatedly talking to Blaise, both of them leaning over a large piece of parchment. The Slytherin was jotting down notes, nodding along and interjecting or counter-arguing. 

“Harry my dear boy, where is your partner?” 

He blinked, quickly getting up from his stool. The metal chair legs protested as they were dragged across the flagstone floor. “Library - just getting my things.” He pocketed the note and picked his bag up. 

A meaty hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. “I am expecting great things, Harry. You really have your mother’s gift.” 

A lie. There was no Half Blood Prince’s book to bail him out. It was probably destroyed in the Fiendfyre, if anything. Harry allowed his legs to carry him out of the dungeons. 

It was quiet with lessons going on. Rain was falling against the window panes, drawing his attention outside. He stopped, heart thumping against his ribcage, trying desperately to break free as he gazed up at the Astronomy Tower. His trembling hand hit the windowpane, as his lower legs threatened to give out. There was a crack as the glass fractured and bit into his palm. 

Harry drew his hand back, blood seeping up to the surface and pooling steadily as he cupped his injured hand. It must have been minutes he was stood there, gazing down at his hand. It was a strange concept that the crimson liquid collected in his hand was coursing through his body, keeping him alive. That without it, his body would cease to function altogether. Life was so fragile. Just one curse and everything could be over. 

He had been ready. He had made peace with everything before he walked into the forest. When that green light flashed before his eyes, he had been ready. Then the blinding white of a ghostly Kings Cross…

***

“What have you done?” 

Harry’s head snapped up at the sharp tone. The library? When had he arrived? Before he could react, a warm hand took his and silver eyes swept over the blood that trickled down his fingers. 

“Seriously Potter?” Malfoy drew out his wand. “ _Episkey_.” 

The skin laced itself together and a handkerchief was placed in his hand. The warm fingers were removed. “Window,” Harry muttered. 

“Pardon?” 

“Fell and hit a window.” He used the fabric to clean up the blood that was not already drying. 

The other boy muttered something that Harry could not make out. Emerald eyes moved up to see Malfoy shaking his head, disappearing into a network of bookcases. 

Harry followed, shoving the bloody tissue in his other pocket that Styx was not in, making a mental note to get it cleaned and returned to his roommate. He looked at the range of potions books already laid out on a table that was tucked away, and put his bag next to it. 

“I want to get one thing straight, Potter.” Malfoy’s face was unreadable. “Unlike some, my future career and the wellbeing of my family depends on this grade. I don’t know what shit you pulled in sixth year for Slughorn to think you are some kind of Potions mastermind but I see through you. Severus would have never let his happen, our grades decided _in pairs_. But you are not to fuck this up. Is that clear?” 

Harry nodded. 

The silence of the library was suffocating around them. 

Malfoy cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowing. “Is that it?” 

“What?” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

There it was. Something hot flickered in his chest, teeth clenching in his mouth. 

“You want us to feel sorry for you, Potter? Is this what this is? All this silence? Sympathy?” Malfoy stepped closer. “Poor Saint Potter, it must be so hard with all of those adoring fans.” 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” he hissed, standing his ground. 

The Slytherin was a breath away, towering a good few inches over Harry. “Scared of the truth?” 

Harry released a hollow laugh. “Fuck off, Malfoy.” 

“No.” 

A tremble ran through his body. “I’m warning you.” 

“Warning me?” Malfoy moved quickly. 

A gasp tumbled from Harry’s mouth as pale hands grabbed his robes, shoving him into the bookcase. Pain exploded across his back, lighting up his nerves. His magic jumped inside his body, burning for the first time in ages. For the first time since the battle. 

Malfoy’s mouth lowered to his ear. “Are you going to cut me open like you did before?” 

Harry froze. Was it the words or the proximity of the other boy? He suddenly became very aware that Malfoy’s body was pressed against his, and the warm breath tickled his ear. A citrus smell, along with something that smelt like the jasmine from Aunt Petunia’s garden, drifted up into his nose. 

Suddenly, an angry hissing caused the Slytherin to withdraw. 

Styx slithered out of his pocket, latching onto Harry’s arm. “ _Massster is dissstresssed. Shall I bite him?_ ”

“ _No_.” Harry tried to get his breathing under control, with his heart racing and his magic flaring inside him. He looked up at Malfoy, who was staring at his mouth. The Gryffindor wiped at his lips, paranoid he had something from breakfast still there. 

The snake grumbled, slithering up to his Master’s neck. “ _Hungry_.”

“ _Go and get something to eat_.” 

“ _Be here when I return?_ ”

Harry rolled his eyes but he agreed. His cheeks flushed at the strange, intense look Malfoy was giving him. 

“Let’s just get on with it.” The silver-haired boy sat down at the table. “If I’m stuck with you, you can at least be useful.” He shoved a thin book towards him, across the table. 

Harry sighed. The lethargy in his limbs started to creep back in as he sat down. “What are we looking for?” 

“We are looking for anything on love potions.” 

Dark eyebrows flew up. “Love potions?” 

“I want a cure for Amortentia, because he would not have turned out the way he did...maybe.” Malfoy resumed flicking through the pages of his book. 

Cold ice slid down his back. “Who?”

“The Dark Lord.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? This story has a life of its own whilst I am writing it!


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